


Swords and Shields and Swords and Shields

by franklin_delorean_roosevelt



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Commander Aveline, F/F, Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Kirkwall under seige, Romance, Romantic Comedy, knights in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-08-11 15:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7898230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/franklin_delorean_roosevelt/pseuds/franklin_delorean_roosevelt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen steps down as commander, the Inquisition chooses Aveline Vallen as his replacement. It takes Cassandra way too long to realize that the inspiration for her fictional crush now fights by her side. At least that explains why Varric's been so smug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These two lady-warriors are perfect for each other. Be still my heart.

Cassandra knew Cullen had been mulling over the idea of cutting lyrium out of his life even before the Templar order had dissolved into chaos. She had been expecting this conversation with him. She hadn’t been expecting him to wholly step down as commander, however, and this certainly left her stunned.

The inquisitor had impeccable timing, as always, and must have overheard their heated conversation. She appeared in the doorway just as Cullen decided the conversation was over.

“We had a pact, Cassandra,” Cullen growled as he stormed past the inquisitor. Her eyes flicked toward him briefly but she spoke to Cassandra instead.

“What just happened?” Malika asked.

Cassandra simply groaned, resting the heels of her hands against her eyes. She lifted one hand to crack an eyelid and look at the inquisitor. “Cullen has told you of his intent to stop taking lyrium, yes?”

The inquisitor’s eyebrows raised. “No. No, he hadn’t.”

Cassandra dropped her hands and clicked her teeth. “Of course. He wouldn’t want to worry you, I suppose. Or risk your disappointment.”

Malika simply sighed. “I’m not disappointed. Going off of lyrium is a brave thing to do. I worry for his ability to perform his duties as commander, however.”

“You know the effects of lyrium withdrawal, then?” Cassandra asked.

“Well, I can guess they aren’t good,” Malika snorted.

Cassandra sighed. “If he’s lucky, he will only face nausea, headaches, forgetfulness…If he’s unlucky, madness. Or death.”

“I assumed such. Who, then, will lead our troops? I can’t imagine he intends to risk those consequences when we are newly established in Skyhold?” Malika asked.

Cassandra shook our head. “We had an arrangement long before you joined us, Inquisitor. As a seeker, I could assess the danger, and find a replacement if it became too late.”

“And the danger is…?” the inquisitor began.

“Too much to risk the world upon. I respect Cullen’s decision to abstain from lyrium. Templars are bound to their masters, mind and soul, by a lyrium leash. It is similar to the walls and swords that keep mages trapped, yet sometimes even more effective. You’ve seen how the mages have risen up.” Cassandra worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “I believe that Cullen is strong enough to cast off that leash, though. And it would be wonderful inspiration to any of the Templars that have joined our ranks.”

“Yet who will the replacement be?” Malika asked.

With another sigh, Cassandra said, “I suppose it will be me.”

“I hope this will not be permanent,” Malika said. “ _I_ need you on my expeditions, Seeker.”

“I know this, Malika,” Cassandra said. The inquisitor blinked. Though they considered each other tentative friends, Cassandra had yet to use her first name. Cassandra knew this, too, and she bowed her head slightly. “I apologize, inquisitor. I will begin a search for another suitable commander. I hope that it will not be too much of a burden to our cause.”

“I trust you, Cassandra,” Malika said as she reached a hand up to rest on Cassandra’s arm. She gave a wan smile. “Good luck.”

“I hope I am blessed with more than luck,” Cassandra replied. Malika nodded tightly, and Cassandra groaned inwardly. It was a slip of the tongue, a moment where Cassandra had forgotten the vast gulf between their ideas on religion. It could not be helped now, though, and Cassandra nodded in return as the inquisitor strode out of the room.

***

“Hello commander,” Leliana said as Cassandra reached the top of the rookery stairs. Her eyes regarded Cassandra with a serious, level gaze, but her tone was light.

“How did you…“ Cassandra spluttered. Leliana just gave an enigmatic smile and turned back to one of her ravens. She murmured something soft to it, and it probed her palm with its beak, looking for a treat. Cassandra knew better than to hurry Leliana when she was caring for her ravens, and in fact, she liked to see the tenderness within the heart of one of her few close friends. Cassandra never quite felt like she and Leliana were having the same conversation. There were always layers of thoughts and machinations behind Leliana’s eyes. Where Cassandra focused on a task until she had completed it to the best of her abilities, Leliana could be planning three assassinations, two scandals, and a secret meeting with her beloved Amell even as she spoke to Cassandra. Yet that same steely demeanor also intertwined with a loyal friend and a devoted faith that remained standing, though shaken. Cassandra couldn’t quite comprehend Leliana’s reasons for doubting the maker, but she trusted Leliana to make the right decisions. In the end, Cassandra believed that her own faith was enough to bolster the two of them after Justinia’s death. She hoped it was enough, at least.

Once Leliana had gently placed the raven on its perch, stroking its chest softly, she turned crisply to Cassandra and spoke. “I already notified Josephine. We’ll convene in the war room to discuss a new commander.”

“I hope this will not be too much of a trouble. With any luck, I will only have to serve a short time before Cullen returns as commander.”

Leliana’s small smile dropped, and her demeanor moved from soft to sharp in the matter of an instant. Though many would have quailed in facing the disapproval of the seneschal, Cassandra knew better than to fear her friend in this moment, and only worried at what feelings could have taken away Leliana’s brief peace. “I think not, Cassandra.”

Cassandra hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I am sorry, Leliana. I do not know what has happened, but I will not ask.”

Leliana looked at Cassandra for a moment before she smiled again. She rested her hand on Cassandra’s arm. “I am sorry, my friend. I should not have lashed out at you in that way. Do forgive me. My Solona has had…experience with Cullen.”

Cassandra opened her mouth slightly, shocked. “I was not aware of that. Were they-“

“No, they were not involved in any way, though Cullen may have wished it. He was a Templar at her circle tower. The one who would have struck her down if she failed the harrowing. He fancied her, I think. She did not fancy him. He still asks about her sometimes, though.”

Cassandra rested her hand atop Leliana’s. “I truly did not know, Leliana. I am sorry that I was responsible for you working together all this time.”

“You couldn’t have known if I had not told you, Cassandra. And my past should not affect the saving of the world, no? Let us move forward.” She squeezed Cassandra’s arm and let her hand drop. “Josephine has been informed of the change. We will meet in the war room as soon as she is finished meeting with the Comte de Poisson.” Leliana gathered a small stack of notes and tossed them into the fire. She stood for a moment and watched until they were consumed, then turned and started walking down the stairs, her arm linked with Cassandra’s.

***

When Leliana and Cassandra entered Josephine’s office, she gave the two of them a brief smile before she returned to writing a letter. Her hand moved almost too fast for Cassandra to see, and Cassandra mused for a second on how effective a dagger would have been between those fingers. Then she felt a twinge of guilt for imagining the pacifistic Josephine as a bard again.

Josephine waved them on to the war room. “Please, do go on without me. I will join you when the Inquisitor does.” At that moment, though, Inquisitor Cadash walked through the office door. Josephine laughed quietly, setting down her quill and picking up her writing board. She followed Cadash into the war room.

The Inquisitor moved immediately into business once the war room door shut behind them. “Now, who among our troops is a suitable replacement for the commander?”

“I do not know if any among our soldiers are well-trained enough to assume a commanding position. Our interests are expanding, and in the aftermath of Haven…” Josephine trailed off and bowed her head. “Cassandra has the most experience with commanding, though our operations are more far-flung and less independent than the seeker order ever was. And my understanding of the Right Hand of the Divine is that the position is meant for the more personal tasks of the Divine, not managing all of the Chantry’s military operations.” She turned to address Cassandra, speaking gently, “Cassandra, though your skills and devotion on the battlefield are unmatched, and I know my colleagues would agree with me, it is not a personal failing to-“

“What Josie is trying to say,” Leliana interjected, her eyes crinkling in a genuine smile, “is that you are unmatched in the art of war, though you may be lacking in the organization.”

Cassandra nodded. “You do not have to dance around my feelings. I am aware of where my skills lie.”

The group lapsed into a contemplative silence. No one offered any further suggestions. Cassandra stared at the map as she contemplated. Several daggers stuck out of the map haphazardly at the sites of their previous military campaigns. Malika had probably gotten that idea from Sera, to be honest. The Inquisitor had a willful streak a league wide, and Sera’s silly suggestions only encouraged her.

Cassandra’s eyes rested on Kirkwall. Though her time in Kirkwall was comparatively brief, two days spent interrogating Varric left her feeling as if she had lived there for the seven years that Hawke spent there before this whole mess. She wondered briefly if they could ask Hawke to be their new commander, but she knew too much about the champion’s antics to really trust her in that position.

A bolt of inspiration hit Cassandra. She knew someone who could be their commander. Someone who had, from what she heard in Varric’s story, been able to turn the city guard of Kirkwall from an ineffective laughingstock to the mortar holding the city together.

Cassandra smiled and said, “I have a suggestion.”

***

The other advisors liked the idea (it turned out that Leliana had met Aveline back in Lothering. “Very serious,” was all Leliana had said about her, then “She will be able to get the job done”). It would take a week for their swiftest runner to reach Kirkwall, and then at least another week to hear any response. In the meantime, Cassandra moved a desk and some shelves into one of Skyhold’s dusty, empty guest rooms and set up an office. Though she wished she could simply set up a table on the smithy’s balcony, it wouldn’t do to have soldiers and suppliers traipsing through the forge.  However, though she kept a narrow bed at the back of her new office, she refused to move her spartan possessions from the loft in the forge. Skyhold’s position among the peaks of the Frostbacks gave it a significant tactical advantage, but the chill of winter held the fortress in its grip even though the valleys were well into spring by now. Cassandra did not want to trade the cozy warmth of the forge for a drafty office, no matter the convenience. Besides, if all went according to plan, then this was only a temporary arrangement.

Cassandra dearly hoped that she would not have to be commander for much longer. If the Maker willed it, she would be able to carry on, but the routine already grated upon her. Between running drills with the troops, overseeing training, overseeing supply chains, and meeting at the war table, she hardly had any time for her own devotions or training. Cassandra now awoke a full hour earlier in order to meditate at the small chantry then go through a pared-down version of her typical daily drills. From then on, her day would be occupied with the minutiae of running an army.

Her time as the Right Hand especially prepared her for these tasks, but she had forgotten how mind-numbing they could be. After only a week, she felt she would be buried under a mountain of papers—and she didn’t even deal with half of the missives that Josephine and Leliana dealt with.

After three more days, they got reports from Crestwood of the dead rising from their graves. Though they weren’t sure of the cause, it seemed likely that it was something to do with the fade. The inquisitor put an expedition together and left without Cassandra.

Skyhold was about to drive Cassandra mad when a messenger came from Kirkwall. It was nearing dusk, and Cassandra was walking down the stairs from her office through the bailey. No soldiers were doing their drills, and Cassandra could hear the hum of conversations drifting from the Herald’s Rest. The smell of the evening’s meal wafted from the tavern as well, and Cassandra’s stomach growled. She had skipped lunch in favor of a meeting with the drill instructors.

As she approached the tavern, however, the portcullis rattled up and Skyhold’s massive gate creaked open. A horse, wet with exertion, plodded in, with an equally tired messenger astride it.

She didn’t run over to the messenger—she was not an eager schoolgirl—but she certainly trotted over. All thoughts of dinner were forgotten.

While the stable hands led the horse away, Cassandra overheard the messenger’s conversation with the guards at the gate.

“I’ve a message for Seeker Pentaghast,” the messenger said.

“I am her,” Cassandra said as she strode up behind the messenger. He started and turned around to face her with a snappy salute.

“I’ve word from Captain Vallen, Ser,” he said.

“Let us gather in the war room, then. I know I am not the only one eager to hear from her,” Cassandra said as she turned and led the way to the war room. She was certain that Leliana already had news of the messenger, so she didn’t bother telling the guards to summon her.

Her intuition was correct, as Leliana and Josephine already stood in the war room as they arrived. After a quick greeting from Josephine, the messenger hesitated a moment. “Will Inquisitor Cadash be joining us shortly?” he asked.

“She is on an expedition right now,” Josephine answered.

Cassandra saw the barest hint of disappointment on the messenger’s face—he’d lost out on a good story—before he opened a sturdy leather pouch and removed a letter sealed with a Kirkwall insignia. Josephine took the letter and delicately broke the seal. She read aloud,

“Herald Cadash,

It is written, ‘Blessed are those who take up arms in the Maker’s name. Take courage, for His will goes before you and His light shines upon you.’

I will make the necessary arrangements for the Kirkwall guard and join you within the space of a fortnight.

Andraste’s peace be with you,

Captain Aveline Vallen”

It was straightforward and unambiguous. Cassandra smiled. She had a feeling she would be fond of this Aveline Vallen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're finally gonna meet!

It took only a week’s time after they received her letter for Aveline to arrive, accompanied by a small contingent composed mostly of guards from the Inquisition. It was decided that Cassandra would greet her. This gesture had, of course, prompted a debate. Josephine had suggested that a formal reception would show Aveline that the Inquisition took her presence seriously. Cassandra knew that a weary warrior would want nothing more than a hot bath and a soft bed after a long journey, and insisted that the greetings be left until Aveline at least took a nap. Josephine was scandalized, the Inquisitor just wanted to get things over with, and they had eventually decided that one of them would greet her, along with Varric.

However, when they called Varric to the war room to ask him, he refused. “You know, Aveline wasn’t on the best terms with any of us, near the end,” he said. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Well, except Sunshine. But she didn’t spend enough time with the Captain to get on her bad side. Aveline’s a…hard woman. Loyal to the end, though. She’ll probably get on well with you, Seeker.”

Cassandra snorted. “So you won’t help us, then?”

“Believe me, you won’t need the help. Aveline’s not about pomp. Have you forgotten that I told you about the time she refused that fancy armor?”

Before Cassandra could splutter out a response, Josephine inserted herself into the conversation. “So then, she will not be offended if we give her a simple greeting? Perhaps we could have Cassandra greet her and help her get settled.”

“Hey, knock yourselves out,” Varric said. “Actually, try that, Seeker. I’d love to see you two meet each other. An unlikely friendship between a battering ram and a great bear.”

Cassandra growled, while the Inquisitor asked, “Wait, who’s the bear and who’s the battering ram?” Leliana hid a smile beneath her cowl.

Varric ambled out of the war room with a wave over his shoulder. “I’ll leave you to decide, Cadash, but I’m not going to risk the Seeker’s company any longer.”

Cassandra sighed, and Leliana rested a hand on her forearm. She said nothing, but Cassandra understood the quiet support of her friend, offered without judgment, and she nodded thanks.

“It is decided, then?” Leliana asked. “We will have Cassandra greet her? We can meet officially tomorrow.”

The others nodded, and quickly disbanded to attend to their own duties. Cassandra had only a few brief tasks to complete for the rest of the day, and she did them with renewed fervor. She could see an end in sight for her duties as commander.

***

Aveline arrived just as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Cassandra was training on her own, moving through fluid sword forms (the closest to dancing she would ever come), when she heard the shout of a watchman. As the guards shuffled to open the portcullis and gate, Cassandra sheathed her sword and cursed. Since she wasn’t commander any longer, she had allowed herself to focus entirely on her training. Unfortunately, she had failed to notice the sun sinking lower. She was wearing a sweaty linen shirt and old, leather breeches. There was no time to go and change her garments now, though, with the portcullis already halfway up and the gate creaking open.

“Where are the scouts? Why did they not tell me she was near Skyhold?” Cassandra lamented.

A nearby trainee said, “Oh, they came to tell you, Lady Seeker, but they didn’t want to interrupt your training. You were mighty focused.”

Cassandra groaned and sheathed her sword, muttering under her breath. She was going to switch their work details, all of them. They would be scrubbing the latrines or slaving over the hot stoves or surveying the Fallow Mire or-

Cassandra’s train of thought was interrupted when the portcullis finally clanged open all the way and a weary party on horseback rode in with slow _clop, clop, clops_ on the bridge. Cassandra sheathed her practice sword and jogged over to the group.

Cassandra knew Aveline the moment she saw her. Aveline rode at the head of the group, still her fiery hair escaping from its loose braid. Two weeks of hard travel did not dull the gleam of her hair at all. She still rode with fine form and a straight spine. The only sign of weariness Cassandra could see was in her bleary eyes as she surveyed Skyhold’s courtyard. Otherwise, she seemed to be unflagging, solid, and strong, Cassandra noted with admiration.

Aveline rode with a squad of inquisition soldiers, and a handful of Kirkwall guards. As the gate closed behind them, they dismounted and handed their horses’ reins to some waiting stablehands. The inquisition soldiers saluted Cassandra as they saw her approach, but she dismissed them quickly and they hurried to take care of their horses and bags.

Cassandra approached Aveline while she was fiddling with the straps on her pack. Aveline’s guards, obviously relieved to have finally arrived, had begun a jovial argument over who would get to use the bath first.

“See, I’m the least filthy, so I won’t ruin it for the rest of you,” one guard said with a grin on his face.

“But I’m covered in the most grime because of that spill I took crossing that river. If you bathe first, then only one person gets clean. If the clean people sacrifice a little, then we can all be the same level of filthy,” another guard declared as she unfastened her pack.

“Or we could let the Captain have it first? Our parting gift to her?” another said, with a soft, somewhat wistful look in her eyes. Aveline cracked a small smile.

“Actually, that won’t be necessary,” Cassandra said.

All the eyes of the guards turned to her, and they fell silent. Cassandra cursed herself and tried not to blush.

“Ah, I’m Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said.

The guards exchanged shocked glances, and Cassandra wanted to bury herself in the ground. These guards were meeting the famed _Cassandra Pentaghast_ and she was sweaty, disheveled, and awkward. There was nothing to be done about it now, though, so Cassandra soldiered on.

“There are baths in the cellars of the keep. If you ask the guards or servants, any of them can point your way there.”

The guards thanked her hesitantly and they left for the tower with their packs.

Aveline regarded Cassandra with a bemused smile, and offered her hand in greeting. “Aveline Vallen.”

Cassandra clasped Aveline’s hand. Her own hand was almost dwarfed in Aveline’s. It was a rare experience for Cassandra—beyond Iron Bull, few of the men in the Inquisition matched her stature. Aveline may have been the largest woman Cassandra had ever seen. Her hand was callused, with traces of scars—similar to Cassandra’s own, she supposed.

“A pleasure,” Cassandra said simply.

Aveline didn’t comment on Cassandra’s disheveled state, much to her infinite gratitude, and instead asked to see her quarters. Cassandra led her, along with two Inquisition soldiers carrying a chest of her belongings, to quarters above the garden which had been recently cleared for Aveline. Cullen had allowed them to move his office furnishings into Aveline’s quarters. Josephine had, in mysterious ways, procured two comfortable chairs and a small table. Though the chairs were slightly worn, they made the room feel a bit cozier.

Beyond these furnishings, though, the quarters were sparse. Luckily, there were enough beds in Skyhold that Aveline could have one. Most of the soldiers still slept on bedrolls, or cots if they were lucky.

The Inquisition soldiers set her chest at the foot of the bed and left with crisp salutes to guard the doorway.

Cassandra stood for a moment, unsure what to say or do. Aveline sat behind the desk and glanced at the small pile of reports already stacked upon it. She sighed.

“I will tell you what you need to know tomorrow morning,” Cassandra said.

Aveline nodded. “Thank you.”

Cassandra understood the weariness Aveline felt, and with no other immediate matters to handle, she bowed slightly and turned to exit. “I bid you farewell,” Cassandra said.

Aveline nodded and stood to clasp Cassandra’s hand again. “I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow,” she said with a slight smile.

Cassandra returned the smile and departed. The smile stayed on her face as she walked back to her quarters.

***

Cassandra spent the rest of her evening in Skyhold’s chapel. Now free from the burdens of commanding, she indulged in her full routine of meditation and prayer.

She left the chapel feeling refreshed and elevated, somehow. Even as she crossed the courtyard toward the forge, she felt as if her soul raised itself in a song to the Maker as the Chant flowed through her mind.

When time Cassandra reached her loft, it was already late. The forge had burned down to coals, and all of the assistants were gone. Cassandra fetched a change of clothes and a towel, then left for the baths.

A full moon shone down upon Skyhold. Muted conversations drifted out of the Herald’s rest, through the dim windows. A guard paced along the battlements. Without the minutiae of commanding an army consuming her mind, Cassandra could actually notice the minutiae of the Inquisition.

Cassandra was usually alone when she used the baths this late. Her long, solitary soaks were one of the few luxuries she allowed herself. So it was with a start that she noticed Aveline was still using the bath.

Aveline sat in the large, heated pool with her back to Cassandra. Her arms rested along the side of the pool and her head tilted back onto the tiled edge. Her hair, damp and dark red, spilled along the floor.

Cassandra hesitated. She could see every ripple of the muscles in her broad shoulders as Aveline breathed deeply. Something about this moment felt too vulnerable, and Cassandra debated turning back and bathing another night. But she could still smell herself above the perfumed water, and it was not pleasant. She would have to bathe tonight if she didn’t want her scent to be a menace tomorrow, or if she didn’t want to compete for limited bathing space in the morning.

She braced herself and padded into the room. Aveline tilted her head and cracked one grey eye open to glance at her, but otherwise, she didn’t move. Cassandra nodded a greeting, then stripped and fetched a bucket of the hot water. She bathed using the bucket first, then, after most of her training grime had been rinsed off, sank into the pool on the opposite edge as Aveline. After Cassandra had scrubbed her hair and body vigorously in the scented water, she, too, leaned back on the edge of the pool to relax.

To her gratitude, Cassandra and Aveline sat in silence. Cassandra even expected that Aveline had fallen asleep. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and she breathed deeply in a slow, even rhythm.

Since she was asleep, Cassandra’s eyes wandered over to Aveline. She had never seen a woman who looked like her. It wasn’t her hair—Leliana had hair just as bright as hers. It wasn’t her sturdiness—the Inquisitor was quite muscular, though she was short. It wasn’t her height—many Qunari women the Inquisition met were about the same height, or even taller. Taken separately, Aveline’s traits may have not been so unique. However, when assembled into one person, all of them combined to form a singular woman. Cassandra’s eyes moved over her figure, tracing the lines of muscles. Aveline was muscled _everywhere_.  She was the largest human woman Cassandra had ever seen. Every rise and fall of her chest rippled through her body, and Cassandra’s mind drifted back to Varric’s tale. _A woman-shaped battering ram,_ Isabela had called her. It wasn’t far off the mark. Cassandra couldn’t count the times in Varric’s story that Aveline had been the one to haul a wounded comrade out of harm’s way.

Though Aveline had been a supporting character in Varric’s tale of Hawke, Cassandra had often found her the most intriguing of the companions Hawke had. Varric had only spoken of what happened to Aveline, and hadn’t given much time to her thoughts and feelings. The constant tension between Aveline and the rest of the group (all of them criminals or close) must have colored his view of her. But underneath Varric’s tale, Cassandra had seen an unflinchingly loyal woman. Aveline had lost her husband and her homeland, yet she never wavered and rebuilt her life into something powerful even as she grieved.

Perhaps Cassandra thought of Aveline as a kindred spirit, though she would never go so far as to say that to her. Where Cassandra had forged her own path after Anthony died, Aveline had done the same after Wesley’s death. Cassandra had found herself in the Seekers, where Aveline had joined the guard in Kirkwall.

As Cassandra mused upon this, her eyes never left Aveline. She started when Aveline’s eyes cracked open and met Cassandra’s.

A burning blush crept across Cassandra’s face, and she looked away quickly. Aveline raised an eyebrow. Before she could say anything, though, Cassandra was already slipping out of the pool and toweling her hair off roughly. She dressed more quickly than she thought possible, and slipped out the exit, holding her shoes in her hands. She didn’t even notice the chill of the castle stones as her bare feet padded along them.

When Cassandra reached her loft, she flopped onto her bedroll with a huff. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed to have been caught looking at Aveline. She had been simply admiring the physique of another warrior, but now she was blushing like a schoolgirl.

It was a question she would have to leave for another day. Cassandra blew out her candle and rolled over, but sleep came slowly to her. When she finally slept, she dreamt of warrior women fighting their way across endless battlefields.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay between chapters! But now I have a chapter buffer and updates should be regular from here on out.
> 
> I also need to give acknowledgement to Stonestrewn's "Writing Love All Over" which is a great Pentilyet story where I pulled the first name of the guard captain in Swords and Shields.

Cassandra awoke just as the sky began to lighten. She lay on her back on her bedroll, feeling wearier than she had been the night before. Her dreams were beginning to slip away from her memory (she never remembered her dreams, perhaps as a side effect being Tranquil for a moment), but she could at least remember how _exhausting_ they had been. Cassandra couldn’t ever recall a time that dreams had interfered with her waking hours like this.

Perhaps it wasn’t that at all, though. Perhaps she was just getting old. Cassandra rose, not bothering to light a lantern as she dressed quickly and finished her ablutions. Scarce minutes later, she was striding across the courtyard toward the small Chantry, just a simple room off of the garden whose stained glass windows were some of the few in the castle not depicting violent battle or blasphemous elven gods.

Cassandra arrived to an empty Chantry—exactly the way she preferred it. Andraste stood, stoic and silent, slightly shorter than Cassandra, overlooking the few candles already lit today (perhaps the night guards had worshipped already). Her marble was mostly white, though dark veins flawed its color near the feet of the statue. The Inquisition had shipped Andraste to Skyhold in the first few weeks after Haven. They had purchased this statue from the nearest village (though nearest meant over a day’s hard riding), whose Chantry went without a statue until the Inquisition commissioned a new one. This gesture, ordered by the Inquisitor, had not gone unnoticed. To the troops and servants, this act was just another sign of devotion from a faithful Herald. Cassandra, who was privy to the Inquisitor’s true feelings about Andrastianism, saw it for what it was—an attempt to make peace with the faithful. Though the Inquisitor held a vastly different opinion on her position than anyone else in the Inquisition, she now knew what was at stake and would cooperate—even pretend—with those around her. She was still their best and only chance to stop a madman.

Things had become so convoluted. A herald who did not even believe in Andraste now pretended to believe. Cassandra only wished that she could give Malika some of her faith, could pass along her absolute certainty in the Maker. It was no use, though. Cassandra believed and observed in solitude.

She shivered in the cold air. After lighting a candle, then placing it at the feet of Andraste, she knelt and began her prayers.

She stared at the candle, though her eyes did not focus on it. Her breath evened out.

Her thoughts immediately turned to the Inquisition, as they were accustomed to do even in quiet hours. Her every thought was for this organization now, and it seemed her worship left her no exception. She felt as if the Inquisition stood at a pinnacle, alone. A single light against the looming darkness of oblivion. Surely they held a righteous cause. Did the eye of the Maker look upon them? Did he smile upon their work?

Cassandra did not know. But she couldn’t afford to doubt, either.

Through all of these thoughts, Cassandra remained relaxed. They were not unfamiliar to her. They dogged her every step, particularly loud since the fall of Haven, but the only time she allowed them to surface was in her meditation.

Cassandra closed her eyes and began reciting a prayer in a whisper. She did not know how much later it was when she heard soft footsteps on the stone floor. She did not move. She did not cease praying, though she stopped whispering. She was now only mouthing the words.

The new visitor knelt next to Cassandra and huffed out a weary sigh. Cassandra recognized that it was Aveline, but she willed herself to keep praying silently, though she glanced sidelong at the captain. Aveline lifted a candle and lit it using Cassandra’s, then set hers at the statue’s feet and knelt on one knee. She rested an elbow on her bent knee and gazed upon Andraste in silence. She did not notice Cassandra staring, but Cassandra still closed her eyes hurriedly. Where Cassandra knelt and bowed in supplication, Aveline appeared to be a knight, pledging fealty to Andraste. The comparison, one that she would more likely find in her romance serials, made her ears burn hot.

She had worshipped to satisfaction. She had to leave. She stood up and strode quietly out of the Chantry. _Maker deliver me,_ she thought.

***

Cassandra met Aveline a short while later in her new office, once Aveline had finished her prayers. Neither of them mentioned their encounters since the last time they had actually spoken. Cassandra preferred it that way.

There was little to report to Aveline, other than the minutiae of guard details and training. New recruits arrived every day, either displaced by the war or an outburst of fade demons. Some of the remaining mages trickled in after the word reached them that the Inquisition would harbor them safely. Somehow, Skyhold managed to accommodate everyone, though a small village had sprung up outside the walls, on the other end of the bridge. Their holdings in the Hinterlands and the Hissing Wastes remained stable, especially with Bann Teagan returned to Redcliffe. The Inquisitor’s last expedition had cleared out Caer Bronach, and with an Inquisition fortress in the area, Crestwood seemed secure. The Inquisition, now somewhat rebuilt in Skyhold, was almost finished scouting the Storm Coast, and Scout Harding reported that it was going well (though her reports always complained about the relentless rain). They even had new maps which would prove useful in any military operation there.

They seemed to be in a lull, though Cassandra knew a storm was coming. Leliana’s agents reported unrest in Val Royeaux and the rest of Orlais, and the Inquisition would have to take action soon. They needed a strong Orlais on their side, perhaps even united with Ferelden, if they hoped to withstand the end of the world.

The transition had been rough, but Cullen had chosen a good time to quit lyrium. He moved about the castle in a haze, and he was sometimes so ill he could not leave his room, but Cassandra was confident that he would emerge healthy on the other side. Some of the former Templars were even following his example. Cassandra had placed them on quieter guard duties to ease their struggles. She hoped the ranks would soon be cleared of lyrium, if only to save some expense for the Inquisition.

Cassandra remained to answer any further questions that Aveline had, but she immediately set to work. She was probably familiar with the broad strokes of the job, even if the location was different, and she already seemed much more comfortable in the position than Cassandra had been. When she called in a soldier to take an approved training schedule to the sergeants, the soldier offered a crisp salute and accepted the orders readily. It did not appear Aveline would have any problems there.

“I take it you do not have any further questions?” asked Cassandra.

Aveline looked up from a scouting report to offer a brief smile. “I’m sure I will have some in the coming weeks, but I can send for you.”

Cassandra returned the smile and nodded, though Aveline had already begun reading again and did not see it. “All the best, Commander.”

***

Cassandra spent her days in practice and in training higher-level recruits. She slept and focused easier, now that Aveline was commander, and the feeling was glorious.

Aveline had thrown herself into her new work and seemed to be getting on well, although her days seemed long. Cassandra hardly saw her except for her occasional tours around the castle with soldiers, learning the details of Skyhold’s defense. When the Inquisitor called them to the war table, they had barely enough time after the exchanging of reports and debating of decisions to hold any conversation. Usually, Aveline would ask a few questions, but then she would be back to work almost immediately. Cassandra hoped that her schedule would open up soon and they would be able to see more of each other, though she did not fully examine that wish and left it for another day.

Two or so weeks after Aveline became Commander, Cassandra got her wish. She was practicing some strikes on a training dummy when Aveline called from behind her, “Would you like to spar instead?” Cassandra readily agreed and stopped her training. She was sweating, though not weary, and she wanted to see Aveline in action—the Aveline who had survived Ostagar, Lothering, the Deep Roads, and Kirkwall.

Aveline carried a practice sword and two wooden shields, and she passed one of them to Cassandra. As they strapped the shields to their arms and moved to the sparring circle, any soldiers practicing in the yard began to gather around the edge of the ring. Several ran to the Herald’s Rest or the barracks, no doubt to gather their friends to see this spectacle. Cassandra herself had been eager to watch high-ranked commanders spar when she was a young seeker. So she understood the desire, but still rolled her eyes when a group of soldiers rushed out of the tavern toward the ring.

“Do we need a judge?” Cassandra asked.

“Not if you’ll fight fair,” Aveline said. Cassandra laughed, and they began circling one another. “We’ll fight until contact. First to three wins.”

Cassandra nodded, and they continued circling the edge of the ring, looking for an opening. Neither of the two veterans wanted to make the first move, but Cassandra moved first, bringing her sword down in a quick sweep toward Aveline’s ankles. Her strike was parried away easily, followed by an overhanded strike toward Cassandra’s shoulder. Cassandra brought her shield up in time, and the fight truly commenced.

The high, clear weather of Skyhold had not seen rain in at least a week, and their motions kicked up small dust clouds as they sparred. Cassandra scored the first point with a quick, darting strike that skirted the edge of Aveline’s shield and struck just below her collarbone. The recruits clapped tamely, and the fighting continued. Aveline scored the next point with an expert riposte off of Cassandra’s attempt to disarm her. Aveline scored her second point when she buffeted Cassandra’s blade with her shield hard enough to send the sword flying. One of the soldiers caught it, returned it to Cassandra, and the fighting continued.

Cassandra seemed to be in dire straits, with Aveline one point away from victory, but she fought with a renewed vigor and managed to score another point with a clever feint which allowed her to catch Aveline just below her ribs.

The next point would determine the victor. The crowd had grown, but the two fighters didn’t notice. Beads of sweat ran down the back of Cassandra’s neck, though the day was cool. The exertion had given Aveline had two spots of red high on her cheekbones, and some of her hair had started to escape her headband.

They stalked around each other now, both looking for an opening. Aveline struck with a wide, heavy sweep which Cassandra blocked, though her arm felt numb where she had taken Aveline’s full strength. They disengaged and continued circling. When Cassandra saw Aveline’s shield dip slightly, seemingly due to growing fatigue, she struck. It had been a ruse, however, and the shield came back up before Cassandra could hit. Suddenly, Cassandra was subject to a series of blows that she just barely staved off with her shield. She charged closer with as strong a blow with her shield as she could make. Aveline blocked it with her shield and braced herself. She bore down on Cassandra with her superior height (and superior muscle, Cassandra reluctantly admitted). Their shields were locked, and if Cassandra didn’t find a way to break this position, she would end up flat on the ground.

Cassandra didn’t have the strength to push back, so she stepped back in an attempt to throw Aveline off-balance and make her fall onto her sword. She didn’t anticipate Aveline moving forward with her, though, and catching the back of Cassandra’s ankle with her foot. Cassandra fell backward, but Aveline was already toppling as well. She caught herself just in time, but Cassandra had already thrust wildly with her sword. Aveline struck at the same time. Cassandra hit the ground hard, and as she re-oriented herself, she realized that the tip of her sword rested on Aveline’s gut. Aveline’s sword rested on Cassandra’s chest. The soldiers were laughing. They had tied.

Cassandra lay on the ground and laughed as well, weakly, while Aveline bent double over her, laughing breathlessly as well. After a few moments, she straightened up and offered Cassandra a hand, which she enthusiastically took. Cassandra tried to brush the dirt off of herself, but the sweat running down her back had turned to a muddy mess. Her shirt would have to be laundered as soon as possible. A recruit brought a bucket of water to them and a ladle, which they both used to take a much-needed drink and then try to wash some of the grime off their faces.

It was a bit early for supper, but when Cassandra saw the spectators move in a mass to the Herald’s Rest, she had an idea. Aveline stared after the soldiers and said under her breath, “I hope none of them have a guard detail tonight.”

“Shall we follow them in?” Cassandra asked. “Have you been to the Herald’s Rest since you arrived?”

Aveline smiled. “No, I haven’t. I’ve had my meals brought to me these past few weeks.”

“If you do not have any more work tonight, would you like to dine with me? I am hungry after our sparring.”

“I’d like that,” Aveline said, and they entered the tavern.

The only other people in the tavern were the soldiers, who waved Cassandra and Aveline over to their table. Cassandra had never fraternized with the soldiers in this way before, but Aveline did not hesitate to sit next to them—not at the head of the table, but in the midst of the troops.

Cabot brought everyone a bowl of the day’s stew and the first round of ale. When Aveline finished her ale, stood to get more. When she returned to the table, she called out, “How about a round on me?” The table cheered, and soon Cassandra had downed three tankards of ale (maybe four, she hadn’t paid much attention), and Aveline was in a similar situation. The room seemed impossibly bright and cozy to Cassandra, and the lanterns, barely lit as the sun began to set, glinted off of Aveline’s hair.

The soldiers had begun to tell stories, but they seemed to float by Cassandra in a haze. She instead spent her time casting sidelong glances at Aveline. Cassandra did not want to miss any moment of her reactions, whether it was a chuckle or a full-throated laugh. Occasionally, when the story involved some loophole in duties or loose security (the soldiers must have forgotten who they were drinking with, or else been too tipsy to care) Aveline wouldn’t laugh, but would instead nod slowly and chew the inside of her cheek, probably making a mental note to fix something in her organization. The sight of stoic Commander Aveline, still sharp even as she laughed and joked with her soldiers, warmed Cassandra’s heart until she felt she needed to laugh long and hard.

Cassandra knew now what this feeling was, though she felt it infrequently, and hadn’t felt it since Regalyan, years before the Conclave. It had been so long since she had been infatuated, and perhaps it was the ale, but she didn’t care. It may have been a long time since she felt these flutterings, but she could enjoy them right now.

It was Aveline’s turn to tell a story, and everyone around the table fell silent, eager to learn something about their new commander. Cassandra knew they were hoping for some embarrassing or sordid tale, but she also knew they would be disappointed. She doubted that Aveline had ever done anything embarrassing or sordid in her life.

_She’s like an alabaster statue,_ Cassandra thought, _solid, steady, gleaming…but to get her hair right, they’d have to use something else. Pyrophite. Or summer stone._ She laughed quietly to herself. She felt ridiculous, but in her current inebriated state, she could hardly care.

“I’ll tell you how I became Guard Captain in Kirkwall,” Aveline began. The recruits quieted, leaning forward in their seats in excitement.

“It was a year after I had joined the guard, and I got wind about a bandit raid. Jeven—the guard captain at the time—wouldn’t listen, so I…well, let’s just say I took on an extra guard patrol while I was supposed to be off-duty.”

“Alone?” one of the soldiers interjected.

“Of course not,” Aveline looked amused. “I didn’t survive this long by being _that_ hotheaded. No, I took Hawke and her sister. Varric came along, too. Now, the patrol route was usually a quiet one. And a guard usually patrolled on their own, carrying the pay and order assignments to an outpost on the Wounded Coast. Remember that—it’ll be important later.

Well, it didn’t take long for us to hit trouble. The place was thick with traps, more traps than Varric could disarm before bandits were upon us. We made short work of them, though—they didn’t expect there to be four of us.”

“What’s it like? Fighting with the champion?” a soldier asked. Cassandra noted that a momentary shadow crossed over Aveline’s face, and she frowned slightly. Was it annoyance at being interrupted? Or annoyance at being asked about Hawke? Cassandra remembered Varric’s words about Aveline, and wondered just how badly things had ended with Hawke.

“The same as fighting with a whirlwind, I suppose,” Aveline said “She’s a messy fighter, but unstoppable. Anyway, we made short work of the bandits, but it was Jeven’s reaction upon hearing the news that disturbed me the most. He was _furious._ Threatened to jail the lot of us. And I thought it strange that Hawke would get closest to jail for _defeating_ thieves instead of _being_ one.”

The soldiers laughed, and Aveline continued. “So I knew something was wrong. And my suspicions were confirmed when guardswoman Brennan—she was the one who was supposed to have the patrol that night—came to us and told us that the satchel she carried had been unusually heavy that night. She had already passed it off to another guardsman, Donnic, though, and we knew he was in grave danger. He even had a route through Lowtown, where it’s dangerous to go alone on the best of nights.”

“So we rushed to find him, and before you know it, we’re in another battle with bandits. Even more of them than the last time. It wasn’t easy, but we soon had them taken care of. Donnic was injured, but we had arrived just in the nick of time. Any later and they’d have had him gutted.”

Something about the story troubled Cassandra, as if she’d heard it before. Perhaps the corrupt guard captain was just a cliché, but all of it seemed more familiar to Cassandra than just a passing tale. She pushed the thought from her mind and refocused on Aveline’s story.

“Well, when we looked through the satchel, wouldn’t you know it, there was gold and some valuable documents with the Viscount’s seal. Jeven was arrested after that. Turns out he had some debts to the wrong people, and he was willing to sacrifice guards in order to pay those off without implicating himself.” Aveline leaned back in her chair and took another swig of her ale. “Despicable.”

“How did you become guard captain, then?” someone asked.

“Oh, the Viscount offered the position to me after Jeven was arrested. Jeven was absolutely beside himself. Called me ‘Ferelden bitch’, but he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. I was the new captain, then, and he was in chains. I’ll tell you about his return sometime. He tried to kill me again, you know. After he escaped.”

Suddenly, it dawned on Cassandra exactly how she knew this story. All the elements fit into place. The newly minted guard, saving her fellow guardsmen from the machinations of a corrupt guard captain. Even the return of that guard captain, intent on bloody revenge. While Aveline’s story hadn’t included lavish descriptions of flowing hair the color of flames, or a passionate romance between her and the guard she had saved (Cassandra’s heart thudded when she realized this), the stories were almost identical.

_And Varric had been there, dammit!_

Aveline was the guard captain Abilene Hendallen. She was the protagonist of Cassandra’s favorite books. _She was Cassandra’s favorite character._

Cassandra paled and cursed herself for being so dense. _Swords_ and _Shields_. They had just sparred, for Andraste’s sake, and Aveline had used exactly those weapons!

Cassandra’s neck was burning, and it wasn’t the flush from alcohol this time. Oh Maker, she had to get out of here before she made a fool of herself. None of the other soldiers had put it together—of course, none of them had the same taste in literature as Cassandra. Only she knew the connection, and only she had been fawning over every installment in the series.

She stood suddenly. Aveline looked at her with a note of concern, and Cassandra smiled stiffly to try to assuage any worries.

“I am going to take my leave. I just remembered something urgent I must tell the Nightingale.” That would keep anyone from following her. If they thought she was going to see Leliana, the young soldiers would give her a wide berth.

Cassandra fled out from the Herald’s Rest, gulping in the cool evening air.

“Ho there, what’s got your knickers in knots?” Sera called down from her room in the tavern. Cassandra just shook her head and stormed to the forge.

When she reached her bedroll, she flopped down upon it and looked to the ceiling, breathing heavily. She flung one arm over her eyes and groaned. _Maker_ , what was she going to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra you DAMNED NERD.


	4. Chapter 4

Aveline was engrossed in her work during the days after their sparring match. This, honestly, was a relief to Cassandra. Upon realizing who, exactly, Aveline was, she couldn’t make eye contact with the other woman without a feeling like she had one of Sera’s bee jars in her chest. War table meetings now seemed to drag on for eons. Whenever Aveline- well, whenever Aveline did _anything_ , Cassandra couldn’t help but stare. Her mind stretched each tiny motion into a treatise. The way Aveline bit her lip when she had to make a quick decision. The way she emphasized her arguments with emphatic motions of her hands, then crossed them as she listened to a rebuttal. The way she raised her prominent chin just slightly when she was proud of something.

_Maker_ , it had Cassandra in knots. She’d rush out of every war table meeting restless and attack a training dummy until she no longer felt like screaming, or the dummy lay in splinters on the dirt.

One day, Aveline had been positively _fiery_ in the war table meeting. Of course she would be, though, when the mission had involved the town guard. When murders had occurred in tandem with Varric’s investigation into the fake _Hard in Hightown_ sequel, Leliana had advocated they send in their own agents. “Why would we do that, when the murder occurred in Kirkwall?” Aveline asked, and then the debate had ensued, with Aveline firmly trusting in _her_ guard. They had eventually resolved to turn any evidence over to the town guard.

On that day, Cassandra smashed through a training dummy and was still restless. So she put on her full Seeker armor and jogged out of Skyhold. After she made it through the craggy mountain pass that separated Skyhold from the rest of the world, she intermittently sprinted through the mountain meadows.

She returned to Skyhold in the late afternoon. As she strode toward her room, she passed by The Iron Bull and his Chargers training. He paused his sword drills and walked over to her, resting his improbably huge greatsword on his shoulder.

“You know, Seeker, I could help you, ah, ease some of that tension,” he said to her.

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “What do you even mean, Bull?”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, I’ve seen the way you’ve been training lately. If I had to guess, you’ve been taking cold baths, too.”

Cassandra huffed and whirled away. She had no time for this.

“Don’t be embarrassed! The commander’s a very fine woman!” He called after her.

Cassandra reeled back around and marched toward him. She glared up at him. “What did you say?”

“You don’t have to be a Ben-Hassrath to see the way you’re mooning over the commander. You into redheads or something? Between her and the Nightingale, you could have a helluva-“

“I have no idea what you are talking about and I am going to leave,” Cassandra said and stalked away.

Of course, all of the Chargers and half the training grounds heard when Bull called out after her, “For the sake of the training dummies, you’ve got to get some, seeker!”

***

Cassandra received a respite from her turmoil when the Inquisitor finally embarked on an expedition, this time back to the Hinterlands on a tip from the mysterious Bianca.

Thankfully, The Iron Bull did not come along, but Varric still had to be on the team. The gloating smiles he gave Cassandra, now that she had figured out the reason for them, were insufferable.

He didn’t say anything to her, though, until they had arrived at the Inquisition encampment to Valammar.

“So, Seeker, I see that you and Aveline are getting on well,” he said, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I know who she is, Varric,” Cassandra said flatly.

Varric let out a booming laugh, and kept laughing until he was doubled over and wheezing. “Oh, this is just too good,” he said. “It took you this long to make the connection?”

“If you’re just going to gloat, I’m going to leave,” Cassandra said.

“No, no. I’ll stop soon, it’s just that even I couldn’t come up with something this good. You mooned over the guard captain in my books, and then you were mooning over the real lady, and you didn’t even connect the two? But imagine the romance I could write about you two! ‘Two lovers, hardened by war but softened by-‘”

“That is quite enough, Varric!” Cassandra fumed.

Before she could say anything further, though, an arrow lodged into the soil between their feet. Before Cassandra could even draw her sword, the camp was swarming with tough, tattooed dwarves.

“The Carta!” the Inquisitor called. She already had her daggers out and was whirling on the nearest thug. A wall of ice erupted around Vivienne, and she commenced in freezing a Carta thug solid, who was easily dispatched with by the Inquisition soldiers, who had leapt into frenzied activity.

“We’ll talk more later,” Varric said as he hefted Bianca and ran out of range. The real Bianca was already firing arrows.

Cassandra already had her sword locked with a Carta blade so she had no idea if Varric heard her when she yelled “I don’t think so!”

***

The fight was a routine one, and the following encounters in Valammar. Despite Red Templar interference and Bianca’s plot, the Inquisition had cut off a key supply of Corypheus’s lyrium.

The Inquisitor wasted no time in summoning the war council when they returned from Valammar. Cassandra barely had time to wash off the travel grime before she was walking into the war room with her hair still unbraided and slightly damp.

With a major source of red lyrium taken away from Corypheus in the Hinterlands, Red Templar activity had already increased in the Emprise Du Lion. Reports of red lyrium and missing villagers were also spreading through the area, and the time seemed right for an Inquisition campaign to put a stop to the activity.

It felt to Cassandra like the Inquisition merely stumbled through the darkness. They only knew the face of their enemy, and a name: Corypheus. Beyond a haphazard guess at his origins and the observed links between him, the Venatori, and the Red Templars, they were all blind to the best course of action. They knew, however, the consequences of failure. The Breach was still an ugly welt in the sky, and it showed no signs of shrinking anytime soon.

The meeting was the first time that Cassandra had seen Aveline in weeks, but the pressing issue of the imminent apocalypse kept Cassandra from too much distraction.

After the meeting, though, as she was about to leave, she felt a hand lightly touch her arm.

“I’m glad to see you again, Seeker,” Aveline said as Cassandra turned to speak to her.

“Likewise,” Cassandra said. She could only get out that single word, though, because she once again felt like she had a bee grenade in her throat. Weeks apart from Aveline hadn’t lessened the intensity of the feeling at all, and in fact may have made it stronger, and Cassandra cursed herself for being such a hopeless romantic.

“Would you…would you like to spar again tomorrow? Before morning drills?” Aveline asked.

Cassandra couldn’t believe her luck. “Y-yes,” she stammered.

“Good,” Aveline said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She smiled at Cassandra, and for a bare moment, her eyes flicked down to look at Cassandra’s body. Then she met Cassandra’s eyes again and looked away. Her ears started to turn pink. She hurried out of the room, but Cassandra remained, feeling dazed. Had the captain been…admiring her? Had that really just occurred?

She couldn’t dare to hope that Aveline fancied her beyond simple friendship, especially with the matter of Donnen, or whoever inspired her lover from _Swords and Shields_.

Cassandra felt like she needed to punch a bear or pray for a fortnight. Since they didn’t keep bears at Skyhold, she left the war room and went immediately to the chapel.

***

After sparring the next day (which Aveline won, though only barely), they decided to lunch at the Herald’s Rest. Since it was too early in the day for drinking, they nearly had the tavern to themselves. Cassandra quite preferred that—they could now sit quietly, in relative privacy.

They sat in pleasantly fatigued silence while they waited for Cabot to bring out their food. After they had started eating their simple meal (bread, cheese, and dried fruit), Cassandra was the first to speak.

“So…is there anyone special waiting for you to return to Kirkwall?”

Cassandra immediately cursed herself for being so damned awkward. Aveline didn’t seem to notice, though, and answered while she cut herself another slice of bread.

“No,” she sighed. “No, there is not.”

Burning curiosity threatened to consume Cassandra. She knew that Varric had based _Swords and Shields_ on real events. Had he just fabricated Guardsman Donnen to be a dashing love interest for Guard Captain Abilene?

Aveline answered her questions, though, when she sighed and said, “I haven’t had much luck in love since…well, since Wesley.”

Her voice cracked slightly and Cassandra’s heart practically broke. She reached out a hand and rested it on Aveline’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Cassandra said.

“It’s been nearly a decade,” Aveline said with a wistful sigh, “and I still find myself wondering what he would think of all this. How he would have dealt with the Templars. What he would have thought of the Inquisition. And yet I also know that if he were here, I may not be the commander, either.” Her voice was quiet, and her eyes thoughtful. She picked up her cup and stared into it.

“You have probably heard it many times, but he died bravely.”

Aveline looked at Cassandra over the brim of her cup. “You know, I forget that you heard the whole story from Varric. Well, something like the whole story.” She chuckled.

“I think he got that part of the story right,” Cassandra sighed.

“It wasn’t something he needed to embellish,” Aveline said. “But since he told you everything, you know about Donnic, correct?”

Donnic. Donnen. Donnen was Donnic. But who was Donnic? Cassandra’s mind raced. “No, I haven’t. Who is he?”

Aveline smiled ruefully. “Of course he left that out. It wasn’t Hawke at her most heroic.”

“Well, what happened?”

Aveline sighed. “Donnic was a guardsman. I…I fancied him, but…oh, it ended it badly.”

“What happened?” Cassandra asked.

“Oh, it was a combination of things. He was sweet on me, too, but it was too hard being his captain. And I couldn’t make a move to save my life. He was dense, and I was shy as a chantry sister-“

Cassandra choked on her ale. She knew many chantry sisters herself, and the comparison didn’t hold up. Aveline thumped her on the back as Cassandra caught her breath.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I was running off to join Hawke at a moment’s notice, and then the Arishok attacked…well, it didn’t leave a lot of time for romance. I asked Hawke’s assistance—I don’t know why I thought she’d be a good wingman—and she simply didn’t believe I had time for it. I can hardly blame her—she was still grieving, but it dashed my confidence nonetheless. I missed my opportunity with Donnic.”

“You saved Kirkwall, at the very least,” Cassandra said.

“It’s all well and good to still have a city left to guard, but then you go home and it’s _so_ quiet.”

Between the seeker barracks, the Grand Cathedral, and Skyhold, Cassandra hadn’t had a moment of quiet since her vigil. She hadn’t really had a home, either, since she was a child.

“I followed Hawke to the void and back. I knew it was right, but that didn’t make it easy. Most of the time, we could hardly stand the sight of each other, but she needed my muscle and I needed her…efficiency. There’s not a rule in this world that Hawke wouldn’t break.”

“That isn’t a side of the Champion that you would hear in many tales,” Cassandra said.

“No, it’s more comforting to pretend our heroes are always dashing. Hawke is a…she’s a hard woman.” Aveline bit her lip, and her voice became quieter. “Within an hour of meeting her, I had to watch her…watch her kill Wesley.”

Cassandra gasped. “I didn’t…I didn’t know _that_.”

“I can’t help but wonder if she acted too soon. If there was another way. Even though I know…I know the blight is a death sentence.”

Cassandra had nothing to say. They sat in silence for a few moments before Aveline spoke again. “It’s been nearly a decade, and I- I haven’t talked about it with anyone.”

“If you ever need to…” Cassandra’s voice dwindled.

Aveline smiled. “Thanks.”

They drank in silence for a few more minutes, until Aveline asked “So, what about you? Anyone in Skyhold catching your eye?”

Cassandra froze. There was someone. But she was sitting right in front of her and Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to confess on the heels of a tragedy.

“No one in particular…It’s been years since Regalyan.” Cassandra said, staring into her ale.

“Regalyan?”

“He was a circle mage at the White Spire. We were involved for years, but our responsibilities kept us apart. We drifted apart until...He died at the conclave,” Cassandra said simply.

“Oh,” Aveline said. “I am so, so sorry.” She sighed and rested her chin in her hands.

“The world is in upheaval,” Cassandra said, “and neither of us avoided tragedy.”

They had nothing more to say, so they left the Herald’s Rest. They parted near the forge. As they bid farewell, Aveline rested her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

“I hope we can spar tomorrow,” Aveline said with a small smile.

Cassandra nodded in return. She didn’t know what to do with her hands so she reached up and rested her own hand on Aveline’s shoulder and smiled.

Aveline chuckled and dropped her hand, and they parted ways. Cassandra couldn’t believe that she was so awkward, but she could at least look forward to tomorrow.

***

Cassandra practiced sword forms while she waited at the training fields for Aveline, but by the time she had finished her second run-through of Bear Mauls the Wolves, she knew that something was wrong. She sheathed her practice weapons and went searching for the captain.

Luckily, she did not have to go far. She found Aveline in her office, with her head resting in her hands. Varric was also there, of all people, and his face was grim.

“What is going on?” Cassandra asked.

Aveline looked up. She held a crumpled letter out. Cassandra took the letter and smoothed it, and could hardly believe what she was reading.

“Is this true?” Cassandra exclaimed. “Would Sebastian really do this?”

“Yes,” Aveline said, her voice impossibly weary. “Kirkwall’s under attack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am....so sorry I didn't update this for six months. Please forgive me! This is, thankfully, a longer update than the last.

“Why would Sebastian do this?” Cassandra asked. “Is Anders still in Kirkwall?”

“Perhaps.” Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Our guess is as good as anyone in the city. The guard has been on high alert for Anders, but there’s been no sign of him from Darktown to Hightown. I have no idea what Sebastian believes.”

“Between Corypheus and Anders, Hawke has a bad habit of leaving the most inconvenient people alive,” Varric said. Aveline gave a sharp chuckle.

Aveline stood and took the letter back from Cassandra. “The guard’s requested Inquisition aid. I’ve no idea if we have the resources to aid them, or if they’re our ally, but…”

“We need all the allies we can get,” Cassandra said. “And keeping access to Kirkwall’s port would be a sound strategic move, I believe.”

“It’s settled, then. I will call a war meeting.” Aveline opened her door, but a soldier already stood there, poised to knock. He saluted crisply instead.

“I’ve a message from the Lady Montilyet,” he said. “She’s summoning the war council.”

Aveline dismissed the man, then exchanged puzzled looks with Cassandra and Varric. The three of them hurried to the war room.

When they arrived, the rest of the council and the Inquisitor were already there. Josephine looked at Aveline’s harried expression, then Varric, and began speaking. “I presume you know why I have called this meeting.”

“I received a letter from Guard Captain Donnic,” Aveline said. “Starkhaven troops besieged the city seven days ago.”

Cassandra had not known that Donnic was the new guard captain, and wondered how often he corresponded with Aveline. She filed that information away to worry over later, since Josephine was already speaking.

“We have been contacted by Sebastian Vael,” Josephine said. Aveline inhaled sharply and gripped the edge of the war table, white-knuckled and tense.

Josephine began to read: “The worst of the mage rebellion is now past. However, the mage who started it all, who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and murdered Grand Cleric Elthina and dozens of the innocent faithful, is still at large. The fanatic Anders must be brought to justice. Though he may no longer be in the city, it is still home to many of his known associates. I thus resolved to invade Kirkwall to locate Anders. But Starkhaven's annexation of this notoriously troubled city has not proceeded as planned. The city's resistance opposes me. They forget that I do this for the good of the city and all the Free Marches. As a staunch ally of the Inquisition, I entreat support for this endeavor, that Kirkwall may be brought under control before more innocents are harmed.” She set down the parchment. “Signed, Sebastian Vael.”

Aveline’s nostrils flared. “That  _ fucking _ -“

“What are our options?” the Inquisitor asked quickly, before Aveline could continue. Aveline took a deep breath and quieted, though a furious blush spread across her cheeks.

“We’ve so many ties to Kirkwall that I don’t believe aiding him is an option,” Josephine said. “While the champion’s actions regarding Anders may be polarizing, I do not believe that annexing Kirkwall will help Sebastian find him.”

“He’s grieving for Elthina,” Varric said. “He’s the one who took Anders’ attack most personally.”

“Yet most of Kirkwall grieves with him. They hate Anders, too,” Aveline said. “Even if anyone knew anything, they’d be far less likely to help him after he invades their city.”

Leliana spoke from beneath her cowl. “We could agree to help him, but have our agents sabotage his efforts instead.”

Josephine looked thoughtful. Then she shook her head and sighed. “I do not believe that would be in our best interests. While it would be a way to gain Starkhaven’s support without actually hurting Kirkwall, it’s too risky. If we are discovered, we will gain a reputation for crossing our allies. We walk too fine a line as we prepare for Halamshiral, and we cannot risk that damage to our reputation.”

“And the people of Kirkwall would still be furious if you even appeared to aid Starkhaven,” Aveline pointed out.

“If double-crossing Starkhaven would hurt our reputation, will helping Kirkwall bolster our reputation?” Malika asked.

“Orlesian opinions of Kirkwall, at least outwardly, are much the same as Orlesian opinions of any place that’s not Val Royeaux. They, ah…they think that Kirkwall is a dirty backwater.” Josephine glanced nervously at Varric and Aveline.

“Kirkwall  _ is _ filthy,” Varric said.

Josephine smiled and continued. “But any shrewd merchant will have access to at least one smuggling route that runs through Kirkwall, usually more, and the nobles are smart enough to know where their luxuries come from. Usually. They might titter outwardly, but they will be grateful in their own way that we’ve preserved Kirkwall. Smuggling through the city would likely be much more difficult if it is annexed to Starkhaven.”

“Aveline? How many troops could we spare?” the Inquisitor asked.

Aveline thought for a moment. “We wouldn’t need more than a division to aid Kirkwall. The city is defensible enough. We could pull most of the troops from Caer Bronach—and that would lower the travel time by at least a week. I could have a full arrangement by this evening.”

“It’s decided, then,” the Inquisitor said. “Warn Starkhaven that any further military action against Kirkwall will force our hand. Aveline, prepare your troops.”

“If I may be so bold, Inquisitor, I would ask to lead the troops in Kirkwall,” Aveline said. “If our next course of action is to attend Celene’s ball, will my presence be strictly necessary?”

“Josephine?” the Inquisitor deferred.

Josephine thought for a moment. “After you became Commander, sales of  _ Swords and Shields  _ skyrocketed in Orlais. We mostly desired your presence at the ball as-“ Josephine blushed slightly. “Well, our sources report that all the noble ladies are quite sweet on you. But the tale of you nobly defending your adopted hometown from an invasion is dashing enough that they’ll still be fawning over you.”

Aveline looked stunned, and her skin turned slightly pink under her freckles. Cassandra felt her own face heating as well. Varric grinned.

The inquisitor laughed. “So, yes, you may go.”

“If I may go as well, I would like to,” Cassandra blurted out.

Josephine tried and failed to hide her smile behind her writing board. “That should be fine, Cassandra,” Josephine said. “We know how much you…We know how much you hate formal affairs.”

With that, the meeting was concluded. Aveline placed some troop markers on the map at Caer Bronach and Kirkwall, then she and Cassandra left the war room together.

“I need to notify Kirkwall and Caer Bronach of our arrival”, Aveline said. “But if you would like to, we can discuss the plans at the tavern later.”

“I would like that.”

**

It took two days of heavy preparation, but soon Cassandra, Aveline, Varric, and a company of Inquisition soldiers were on the road to Kirkwall. The sheer production of moving soldiers across Thedas never ceased to amaze Cassandra.

The group traveled light, in order to reach Caer Bronach as soon as possible. They would gain support staff at Caer Bronach, but for now the soldiers were on rotating camp duties. Cassandra was eager for the time when they wouldn’t be limited to travel rations.

As they sat down to a simple meal, Varric regaled the troops with a story of Hawke and the Qunari assassin, Tallis. Cassandra was already skeptical of the whole story, but when he reached the part where Hawke and Tallis kissed passionately, she scoffed out loud.

“Hawke couldn’t have kissed Tallis, right?” Cassandra asked Aveline quietly. Aveline hadn’t been paying attention, instead reading a report by firelight.

Aveline didn’t look up from the paper. “Oh, no, she did.”

“What?”

“I heard it from Bethany later. Oh, it mortified her to see her sister’s romantic conquests. The rest of us just got used to it.”

“But I thought that she and Isabela…”

“Oh, they were. But they must have had a competition to see how many people they could…you know. When they weren’t together themselves.”

“Varric left most of  _ those  _ stories out.”

“Good thing, too. Hawke was quite the braggart, so he probably has all the…details.”

“Maker preserve us,” Cassandra said, and Aveline snorted.

They were going to be marching out early the next morning, so they went to their tent after they were finished eating.

Aveline immediately stripped off her shirt once the tent flap was closed. Cassandra averted her eyes and started fiddling with the straps on her bedroll, but the sight of Aveline’s well-muscled shoulders and stomach was already seared into her mind. Maker, the tent was too hot.

Cassandra only dared to turn around again when she heard Aveline slip into her own bedroll. Cassandra changed out of her clothing and put out the small lamp. She lay on her back and stared into the darkness. Across the tent, Aveline shifted. Her breathing was even and steady, and Cassandra thought she was already asleep. However, just before Cassandra drifted off to sleep, she heard Aveline say quietly, “Good night, seeker.”

**

After a few more days of hard travel, Cassandra was too tired every night to feel spun-up about sharing Aveline’s tent.  Each day, they rode together at the head of the column of troops. They spoke only rarely, but that did not prompt discomfort. Cassandra liked this. She was comfortable riding in silence, but it was rare to find a companion who felt at ease in the same way.

They filled out their complement of soldiers and gained a retinue of staff at Caer Bronach. Cassandra could tell that Aveline could hardly stand to wait any longer to get to Kirkwall, but a day to rest and organize their small army was absolutely necessary. It would also be a chance to sleep with a dry, warm roof over their heads. If the Maker willed it, some of them could even sleep in a real bed. Kirkwall could last another day in a siege without them, though Cassandra had enough tact not to say that to Aveline.

They were welcomed in the courtyard by Charter, one of Leliana’s higher-ranked agents. While stablehands took their mounts, Charter, who had a report from Kirkwall, ushered Cassandra and Aveline into a room, hardly larger than a closet, which had been restored into an office.

“You have arrived just in time to see our completed renovations,” Charter said. “The bandits were not the best keepers, but all the deteriorated areas are finally operational again.”

“It is very impressive,” Cassandra said. Aveline looked out the window slit with a drawn and harried look on her face. She was unusually quiet, even in spite of her usual taciturnity.

Charter glanced at Aveline, then began speaking. “We’ve word from one of our agents in the Starkhaven forces.”

Aveline started. “I didn’t know we had someone on the inside.”

“More than one someone, yes. That’s all I will say on the matter, though. I’m sure you understand how much danger they’re in.”

Aveline nodded, and Charter continued. “Right now, it seems that Sebastian is just going to lay siege to the city. His initial attack wasn’t enough of a surprise to catch the city completely off-guard, and since his rule is still young, he doesn’t yet have the resources to put real pressure on the city. For now he’s just…waiting. Harassing the city and cutting off supply lines. He’s even choked off all of the major smuggling tunnels. Maker knows how he found them all.”

Aveline sighed through clenched teeth. “Probably Hawke.”

Charter nodded, thoughtful for a moment, then continued. “However, he has just allied with Tantervale. And while there haven’t been any new troops in the Starkhaven camp in a while, rumors are spreading through the ranks that the new alliance brings siege machines.”

“How long would it take for the machines to be transported from Tantervale?” Aveline asked.

“Well, it depends,” Charter said. “Our conservative estimate is two weeks, and that’s if all the machines were standing and ready to be delivered. The longest estimate would be about two months. We’re still trying to establish some agents in Tantervale, but anti-Inquisition sentiment runs high there. Our agents have difficulty contacting us without detection, so we haven’t been able to verify any activity there.”

“What is the distance from here to Kirkwall?”

“For you and your army? About nine days. Now, on to the next item,” Chanter said. Then she pulled a sheet of paper from a stack on her desk and handed it to Aveline, who read it over, frowning.

“What am I looking at?” She asked.

“We received this from our agents in Kirkwall. Sebastian used his mages to launch these pamphlets over the walls. He’s promising cold, hard sovereigns to anyone who will turn on Kirkwall—whether that’s providing the location of unknown  tunnels, or ruining supplies, or whatever else a citizen could get up to.”

“Has anyone taken him up on it?” Aveline asked, appalled. 

“Not many, from the sound of it. And any saboteurs are swiftly rooted out and dealt with. Kirkwall’s citizens are loyal,” Charter said. “They don’t want a change in leadership. Especially not to someone like Sebastian. A change in leadership would mean greater interference in their…activities.”

Aveline bristled, but before she could say anything, Charter interrupted. “I know you’ve made the city monumentally safer, but from what I understand, you focused more on theft or bodily crimes than smugglers.”

Aveline sighed. “Smugglers didn’t exactly take high priority when the Coterie was ready to slit our throats,” she admitted.

“Yes, anyway. Kirkwall’s citizens have really pulled together now,” Charter said. “We haven’t made our presence known yet, of course, but we have still obtained the location of an undiscovered smuggling tunnel. We can use that to move some of our troops and supplies into Kirkwall. We can’t get the whole army in, of course, so you’ll have to figure that out, but any help will be a wonderful boost to morale.”

“Thank you, Charter,” Aveline said.

“It’s nothing. We were lucky--this tunnel spits you out into Lowtown, not Darktown.”

Aveline chuckled. Charter relayed the protocol for contacting their guide, then released them to finish their preparations for travel.

Much of the organizational work had already been done before they arrived, so their remaining duties merely consisted of speaking with the quartermaster who would be traveling with them, and one of Harding’s scouts. The scout had an updated map of the countryside surrounding Kirkwall, and even rough details of Sebastian’s fortifications. While there was no tavern to speak of in the fortress (yet), there was a cramped mess hall, where Aveline and Cassandra could share a table and pore over the map. They received a soldier’s ration of ale, and a simple, but fresh meal. 

Some of the soldiers had brought their own liquor, or purchased it off of someone in the fortress, and they were already laughing a little too loudly to be sober. Cassandra and Aveline shared an exasperated glance, but they knew better than to anticipate any soldier to give up a night of merriment, and they would still be leaving just as early in the morning.

The scout had sketched the range of Starkhaven patrols on the map, and noted how fast it seemed to be expanding. Now that Sebastian had dug in his heels to wait out the siege, his patrols had been searching a much wider berth for tunnels. Cassandra hoped their tunnel would either be wickedly long or well-hidden. She didn’t have much hope of it remaining safe.

Between Cassandra and Aveline’s commanding experience, they eventually selected a location for a temporary Inquisition camp near the base of Sundermount. The foothills provided a relatively easy place to fortify, and the scout had labeled several shallow caves that could prove useful.

The location was out of the range of the patrols, for now, as the easiest route to it required a patrol to go dangerously close to Kirkwall’s fortifications, and several guard outposts. Cassandra and Aveline knew that it would be impossible to move their force unnoticed, but they could at least have a fortified camp. Cassandra doubted that Sebastian would take any immediate action against them, but that would not last long.

Eventually they needed a lantern to read the map, then Aveline finally sat back and rubbed her eyes. Cassandra yawned in agreement. It was not too late into the night, but days of travel had worn both of them down.

“Let us go speak with the quartermaster about our accommodations,” Cassandra said as she stood.

“I agree,” Aveline said, and they returned to the quartermaster’s office. He was a short, nervous man, but he had arranged an extra room in the crowded castle for them to share that night, so he was obviously good at his job.

“There’s only one, ah, problem, though,” he said after he gave them directions to the room. “I’m sorry, but Caer Bronach is a bit…meager in comforts at the moment. There is only one bed in the room. I tried to arrange another to be brought in, but the other beds in the castle are occupied by infirmary patients or visiting merchants. Please forgive me.”

“We are simply grateful to have a roof above our heads as we sleep tonight,” Aveline said gently, and then she and Cassandra departed for the room with their packs.

The room was small, but it was dry and warm from a small brazier. A simple, but wide, bed stood in the corner, and a table with a full washbasin stood beside it.

Cassandra, no stranger to sharing rooms with her traveling companions, pulled a sovereign from her pocket and prepared to flip. Rather than calling it, however, Aveline said, “Oh, don’t be foolish. That bed is wide enough for the both of us and it would be a shame to waste that space.”

The coin remained motionless on Cassandra’s hand as she froze. She could hardly believe what Aveline was suggesting, but Aveline was serious. She even seemed nonchalant about it, while Cassandra’s heart leapt into her throat.

Cassandra took a steadying breath and her mind ran through rapid calculations. What was stopping her from agreeing to Aveline’s idea? Beyond her burning attraction to the woman in front of her?

Well, she had a whole myriad of hesitations to sharing the bed with Aveline. What if Cassandra snored? What if she kicked in her sleep? She hadn’t ever been a restless sleeper before, but that habit could somehow start tonight. What if her breath smelled incredibly unsavory in the morning?

“Alright,” Cassandra heard herself saying, and she set her pack on the floor. Her mind still raced but she forced herself to remain calm. That is, until Aveline removed her boots, stood, and stripped out of most of her clothing. She started a series of fluid stretches.

Cassandra could have screamed in frustration, but instead, she stripped off her own clothing and washed quickly using the washbasin. She hurriedly slipped into the bed and lay resolutely staring at the wall while Aveline finished her stretches. A few short minutes later, Cassandra felt Aveline’s weight press the bed as she climbed in.

Aveline radiated heat. Though they had separate blankets this night, Cassandra could feel her warmth from the other side of the bed. Except, perhaps, Cassandra may have just been feeling flustered. She couldn’t slow her breathing to a convincing appearance of sleep, so she rolled onto her back instead.

The air between them felt weighty, somehow. One of them needed to break the tense silence, but Cassandra was at a loss for words. She could have bid Aveline a simple good night, but that would have been a waste of the energy they shared now, in this quiet, darkened room.

It was Aveline who finally spoke. “I suppose you may be wondering why I’ve fought so passionately for Kirkwall.”

Cassandra hesitated. “Yes, I suppose I was. If I am to believe what I heard from Varric, most of the city still looked upon you as an outsider.”

“You’re right,” Aveline sighed. “Even after I had lived there for a decade, I still got called ‘Ferelden bitch’ on a weekly basis. Mind you, the people who called me that were lowlife criminal scum, but even in high society, I was just called…’charming’.” She affected a noble accent and a tone of voice that was at once familiar to Cassandra, as a Nevarran in Orlais. After she had saved Divine Beatrix, she had been catapulted into high society and become the new novelty in the royal court. However, when the nobility had gotten to know her abrasive nature, she had been relegated to being a “charming” diversion. She was still invited to parties (one would never want to slight an agent of the Divine), but she was no longer the center of attention. It suited her, but then again, she needed nothing to do with the nobility. Cassandra served the Maker and the Divine.

“It may seem like a stretch, Cassandra, but I still love the city. I suppose when you are called upon to protect something, you can’t help but love it. I’ve walked up and down those city streets for over a decade, and I’ve looked into the eyes of people we’ve helped, and I’ve gotten to know Kirkwall so well that I just can’t help but love it.”

“I understand,” Cassandra said. “It is similar to my feelings for the late Divine, may she rest in peace. I did not initially know Justinia very well, but after trading my own safety for hers, I could not help but…care for her.”

“I am so sorry for your loss.” Aveline’s hand found Cassandra’s and she squeezed it briefly.

Cassandra’s heart stopped, but she still choked out,“Thank you.”

“Thank you for understanding. I know this all may seem like a whirlwind expedition to protect Kirkwall, but I…I am personally invested. Even if Kirkwall did not completely accept me, it is still my city, and a place I have grown to love. Perhaps I am even proud of it. People change. When I first came to the city, I don’t know if its people could have withstood a siege together like this.”

“It is truly remarkable,” Cassandra murmured.

“Good night, Seeker,” Aveline said.

“Good night, Captain,” Cassandra mumbled.

Aveline let go of Cassandra’s hand. They both rolled away from each other to sleep, but Cassandra could still feel the thrill of being so close to Aveline. If she moved just scant inches, she could touch Aveline. She could stroke her fiery hair, or even embrace her. 

Luckily, her exhaustion weighed heavier than her excitement. Aided by a bed that wasn’t the hard ground, Cassandra soon fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! I love these two.

**Author's Note:**

> Pls help me come up with a better title lol.  
> I hope to update this about every week and a half!


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